


Bilbo's Missing Furniture

by toggledog



Category: The Hobbit (2012), The Hobbit - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: AU, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-02-10
Updated: 2013-02-12
Packaged: 2017-11-28 20:12:53
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,349
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/678446
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/toggledog/pseuds/toggledog
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Fulfilment of kinkmeme prompts: </p><p>Post BoFA: Bilbo starts to realize that his possessions are slowly going missing. He assumes it's all a big prank, because the Tooks and Brandybucks are absolute horrid when it comes to pranks, but he'll get them back in due time.<br/>Then his favorite armchair goes missing, the one his father loved, and he cannot let it stand. That's when Bilbo finds out that the dwarves have slyly been taking Bilbo's things and moving them to Erebor by command of Thorin. Bilbo thinks Thorin is an absolute idiot, but his father's armchair does look quite nice next to the hearth in Thorin's bedchambers.<br/>Then: Thorin is not very good at dirty talk, which is a shame, as Bilbo wants him to try it. He turns to Dwalin for advice.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * Translation into Français available: [Bilbo’s Missing Furniture](https://archiveofourown.org/works/3537137) by [phoenix8351](https://archiveofourown.org/users/phoenix8351/pseuds/phoenix8351)



> Kinkmeme prompt here: http://hobbit-kink.livejournal.com/4373.html?page=13  
> I had so much fun writing this.  
> Enjoy!  
> Yeah and I fudged the distance between Hobbiton and Erebor, to get the story moving along :)

Bilbo awoke, one rather frosty morning, with a fresh impulse to write up his adventures with the dwarves. In the month or so since he had left Erebor, he had been deliberating back and forth in his mind. Some days he almost took quill to parchment. But something always stopped him. If he was to be honest with himself, to write up the story would entail even more thinking about the one with pale blue eyes and grey streaked dark hair. In fact, the blue-eyed beauty was the very reason why he left Erebor to begin with. He was tired of thinking of this particular dwarf. It would be nice to think about something else, for a change.

The Battle of the Five Armies almost took the lives of the Durin line. Indeed, Thorin, Fili and Kili lay close to death for days. Finally, Oin’s medical expertise won out. As the King of the Mountain set about rebuilding his kingdom, Bilbo told himself that the twist of his stomach and flutter of his heart every time Thorin was near, had more to do with anxiety over his near death, over anything else. As the days went by, however, it became clear, to him, the real reason why his heart broke a little every time he looked upon the great king.

Today, however, would be different, he told himself, as he jumped out of bed. Yes, he would write his story of the craziness with the dwarves. And he would use his best parchment. And he would only think about Thorin as he pertained to the story. With invigorated stride, he went to his desk and pulled open the top drawer-

 The drawer was empty. Bilbo frowned and opened the second drawer. It was filled with quills and other oddments, but held no parchment. He opened the third and final drawer, rummaging through the various items inside. Again, no parchment. His frown deepened. He opened the first drawer again.

  _Maybe it’s fallen out._

 Bilbo crouched and started searching the floor near the desk, then directly underneath.

 The parchment had utterly vanished.

 _You must have used it_ , Bilbo thought. _It’s the only explanation._

 Only he didn’t recall using it. In fact, he was quite certain that merely a few days before, he had opened the drawer and the parchment was there.

  _I’m sure it will turn up_ , Bilbo thought, determining to put this out of his mind.

 ###

 Bilbo brought the last of the plates out of the pantry and placed them on his dining table. He lamented that he was constantly losing forks. It was as though there was a deep fork hole that sucked up all forks within the immediate vicinity. Still, it wasn’t as though he was expecting company, that night. He only needed one fork. He went to the side dresser and opened it, reaching in for his favourite doily. His fingers hit hard wood. Frowning, he looked inside.

 The drawer was empty of all doilies. Bilbo blinked, closed the dresser, and then reopened it. The doilies were still missing.  An odd feeling twisted his stomach.

 How can doilies go missing? Was someone sneaking into his house to steal his doilies? Bilbo laughed aloud. Silly thought! Of course not.

 With his stomach still in knots, he sat down to his dinner. It was then he realized that something was not quite right with the table.

 It took a few seconds to figure out what it was.

 Where was his porcelain vase? Surely it was there the night before.

  _Oh dear_.

Bilbo was still rather a young hobbit. Was this the first sign of advanced age? Some of the Took side of the family did tend to get rather forgetful, as they got older. But he thought of himself as more of a Baggins (despite his most recent adventure…) Surely, there was an explanation for this all...

 That didn’t involve him losing his mind.

 ###

 Bilbo was certain he had more plates. In fact, when he counted them a month before, he had exactly 37. Now, he only had 15. A direct inventory of his china found the exact plates that were missing. His mother’s willow pattern ones.

 Right, now he was positive. Something was going on. He decided to take inventory of everything in his house.

 After going through what was missing- forks (it turned out knives as well, and spoons), plates, doilies, parchment and, upon inspection, a single pillow from the spare room, that had been especially embroidered for him by his mother-he was beginning to feel that someone was playing a practical joke on him. Seemed exactly the kind of thing the Tooks or the Brandybucks would get up to.

 Bilbo huffed and sat down in his favourite armchair, cursing those certain hobbits that were always determined to make his life hell. He started to consider what he could do to pay them back.

  _Fleas in their bed? Possible._

_Itching powder through their clothes? Better._

 _No, not good enough. Hm…_ he’d have to give this more thought.

 He closed his eyes, weighing through differing possibilities. The warm flame in the fireplace before him was making him drowsy. He allowed himself to drift off.

 ###

 Bilbo slowly felt himself come to. The fire had died down now, a light chill permeating the air. On instinct, he looked down at his feet. A light groan issued from his lips.

 His favourite plush rug was missing.

 Bilbo cursed and stood up, surveying the room. Also missing were the fire poker, a few of the trinkets on the dresser and a couple of the more intricately embroidered cushions that had sat on the chair opposite his.

  _Those crafty devils!_

 Clearly, if it was a practical joke, it was leading up to something. He was certain that, whoever was behind it, would reveal their purpose, in time.

 Fine then, he would bide his time… wait for whoever it was to slip up… and then…

 He’d have to have a really good think as to what would be adequate revenge.

 ###

 In the next few days, it appeared that whenever his back was turned, more would go missing from his house, the perpetrators getting more and more bold with their thieving. Vases, rugs, more plates, mirrors and, at final inventory, his grandmother’s chest, all seemed to mysteriously vanish. If he was in one room, items would disappear from another. It was beginning to be beyond infuriating.

 “Whoever you are, I demand you show yourself!” Bilbo shouted in frustration, upon realizing his favourite bedside lamp had gone missing, even though it had been in the room merely moments before.

 Silence answered him.

 Frowning, Bilbo stormed into his lounge room.

 For a moment, he could only stare.

  _No, no that is too much!_

 His father’s favourite chair, the one specifically gifted to him upon his father’s death bed, the one upon which his father would smoke pipes and while away the night hours, telling Bilbo all manner of funny and twisted tale, was missing.

_I will not let this stand!_

 Bilbo stormed to the front door and pulled it open, intending to go to first the Took, then the Brandybuck hobbit dwellings, to have a stern word with them. Pranks were one thing. But stealing what was heartfelt and valuable to him, was something else entirely.

 He stepped out of the door and moved swiftly to the front gate.

 Huffing sounded behind him. He swiftly turned.

 “Aha!” He shouted, at the two dwarves attempting to extricate his dining table through his front door. Kili, who was standing outside, gave a jump and dropped his side of the table.

 “Kili!” Fili began and then, upon seeing Bilbo rushing towards them, dropped his side of the table. “Bilbo! How have you been?” He affected what was clearly meant to be a winning smile.

 “What are you doing with my table?!” Bilbo demanded.

 “Oh…well…” Both dwarves looked to each other.

 “It’s you, isn’t it? You’re the ones who have been stealing my things!”

 “Now, Bilbo. This isn’t the way to treat old friends!” Kili said.

 “Old thieves, you mean!”

 “Well, speaking from the point of view of a thief, yourself-“

 “Why have you been stealing my stuff?”

 Again, both dwarves looked to each other.

 “It’s very nice stuff, isn’t it?” Fili said. “You really have required some very lovely things.”

 “And you do have a lot of it. We just thought you wouldn’t mind if some of it went missing.” Kili said.

 “In fact, we figured you wouldn’t even notice!”

 Bilbo felt his face heat up. “Not even notice? How could I not notice my kitchen table going missing? Or my favourite armchair?”

 “Well, you are rather wealthy now. We thought you could just buy some more.” Kili said.

 “It’s harder for us dwarves, you see. We don’t have the… style that you’ve acquired. It’s all so soft and warm and cozy and, well... homely. We thought you wouldn’t mind.” Fili grinned again.

 Bilbo closed his eyes and clenched his fists, counting to ten in his head, to stop from slugging both of them.

 “Put the table back.”

 Immediately, the two dwarves launched into protest.

 “Put it back, now!”

 Grumbling, Kili and Fili huffed and puffed, clearly struggling to drag the heavy table back into the hobbit hole. Bilbo simply watched, with great satisfaction in not offering any help. After a goodish amount of time, the sweaty, reddened dwarves finally replaced it back into the dining room. Bilbo stood before them, hands on his hips.

 “I want the rest of my stuff back.”

 “Oh… that may be a problem.” Fili said.

 “You see, it’s kind of been taken to Erebor, by the other dwarves. See, we weren’t the only ones involved in this.” Kili protested.

 “Erebor? Why has it been taken there?”

 “Well, because Thorin likes your things. He says they felt homely.”

 Bilbo’s eyebrows rose almost up to his hairline. Thorin was behind this?

 “Well… he, he can’t just take my things! This is ridiculous! He needs to give them back!”

 “You may have to tell him that.” Fili said. “He is rather enamored with your things. Especially the armchair.”

 “Right! That’s it! We are going to Erebor right now. I’m going to talk to that fool!”

“Alright, we’ll just get Gandalf to-“

 “Gandalf is also involved?” Bilbo asked, not bothering to hide his exasperation.

 “Well, he created a vortex to shorten the time it takes to move the items across. He seems to have since disappeared.” Kili’s brow creased.

_Of all the…_

 “Fine, then. We’ll walk to Erebor!” Bilbo said.

##

 It was a full three week journey to the Lonely Mountain. In that time, Fili and Kili tried to distract Bilbo with their jesting and chatter. Bilbo would have none of it. He wasn’t going to fall into the hijinks of idiotic dwarves again. Eventually, Kili and Fili gave up and started simply conversing amongst themselves.

 Finally, they went through the main gates of the magnificent rebuilt city. Looking about the place, Bilbo thought that Thorin had done quite well, architectural-wise. The new, rather blocky looking huts and houses took were aligned in a perfectly symmetrical fashion, all the same height and size, but for a few, built into the mountain, which were…

 Bilbo almost ran into the back of Kili.

 The houses built into the mountains were circular, with round doors.

 “Yes, we really did like Hobbiton. Pretty place.” Kili said.

The castle, which stood at the centre of the town, had not been entirely rebuilt yet. However, from what Bilbo could already see, from the few completed towering columns and turrets, once finished, it would be very grand indeed.

 They went through the steel double doors to the throne room inside. Fashioned around the vast chamber were tapestries, depicting the various battles, including the Battle of the Five Armies. A long-haired rug lay on the floor before Thorin’s throne. Bilbo suddenly realized that he was grinding his teeth.

 He had spent a long time haggling with a very devious hobbit at the market for that rug. It had been a very hot day, and when he finally went home with his prize, he had also acquired a rather painful sunburn.

 Thorin, himself, sat on the throne, looking irritatingly regal and handsome. Well, Bilbo wasn’t going to pay any attention to that! No, that wasn’t the issue here.

 “Bilbo! Finally, our favourite thief returns!”

 Beside Thorin, stood Dwalin, eyeing Bilbo with an odd look. Bilbo felt he could almost read amusement in the usually cold eyes. On the other side stood Balin, who smiled genially.

 Bilbo hastily bowed, then quickly got to the point as to why he was there. “Now, Thorin… I…we need to discuss some things!”

 “Certainly! Perhaps we should retire to another room?” Thorin's smile lit up his entire face.

 Bilbo found himself inexplicably flustered. “I…er… I guess, if that’s…”

 He looked down to the rug. Someone has spilt something on it. It was discoloured red in one corner.

 “That’s my rug!” He shouted. “That’s my rug that you’ve stained!”

 Thorin looked down. “Oh… I had not noticed that.”

 “I’ll get someone to clean it.” Balin picked up the rug and started to take it out of the room. For a moment, Bilbo was completely bamboozled.

  _What is wrong with these idiot dwarves?_

 “That’s not the point! That’s my rug and I want it back!”

 “Perhaps if we discuss this somewhere else…” Thorin said.

 “What is there to discuss? Just give me my belongings back.”

 “Well, when you walked in, you did say you wanted to discuss some things. That led me to believe that you wanted to discuss some things.” Thorin nodded at Balin, who continued to carry the rug out of the room.

 “I… you can’t just…” Bilbo watched his favourite rug disappear through the main doors.

 “Come, Bilbo.” Thorin said, standing. He then started to walk away from the throne, through an archway to his right. Feeling he had no choice, Bilbo followed him.

 “Now, I don’t know what is going on but I demand it stop now!” Bilbo said, as he trailed Thorin down a gold lilted long hall. “I’m not the fool you think I am!”

 “I don’t think you’re a fool at all.” Thorin reached a heavy oak door at the end and opened it, bading him to go through.

 Bilbo entered-

 -And gasped.

 The bed, with its high golden headrest, intricately carved with what Bilbo could only guess were dwarven phrases, looked unfamiliar. Every other item in the room, he recognized as his own. The chest beside it, the trinkets on the chest, the rugs on the floor, the blankets and pillows on the bed. The armchair by the hearth, with his mother’s cushions on top. Bilbo stormed into the room and pulled the blankets back.

 How did he not realise they’d taken his sheets as well?

 “This is…” He admitted to being gob smacked.

 A small fire licked the edges of a brick lined fireplace, facing the bed. Thorin closed the door behind himself, and then picked up Bilbo’s poker to tend to the fire.

 “This is all mine!” Bilbo clutched the edge of the bed. He suddenly felt very faint. “Why is this all mine?”

 “Well.. I figured you’d feel more at home if your belongings were here.”

 “More at home?”

 Thorin swung around to face him. There was something in his eyes. Bilbo found himself ensnared in the ocean blue depths. With cat like stealth, Thorin moved across the room and grabbed Bilbo by the chin, forcing their lips together. Bilbo gasped, allowing Thorin’s tongue to enter his mouth.

  _Oh… oh my…_

 Bilbo reached around and tugged hard at Thorin’s hair, entangling his tongue with the king’s.

 They released. Bilbo found that he was unable to control his breath.

 “We understand each other.” Thorin said.

 Oh, well if that was what Thorin wanted-

 No! Bilbo wasn’t just some naïve hobbit to be taken in by the charms of a very… _ok so he’s very very beautiful and powerful oh so powerful and-_

  _Stop this!_ Bilbo admonished himself.

 “You can’t just steal my belongings to make me stay at your kingdom.”

 Thorin was clearly not able to control the look of surprise on his face.

  _Yes, yes, he would be used to ordering people around. Well, I won’t stand for it!_

 “You need to prove to me that the items belong here. That I belong here.” A sudden thought came to him. He felt a vitality centre around one particular part of his body. He pointed to the particular shaggy rug before the fire (he recognized it as the one given to him, when he came of age, by his aunt). “Prove to me that I belong here.”

 An amused twinkle came into Thorin’s eyes. “Anything you request of me, I will accede to it.”

 He grabbed Bilbo’s hand and both fell down onto the hearth, in a tangle of arms, legs and mouths.

 Later, the sated naked couple lay together by the now almost burnt out fire, legs still entangled.

 “I’ll send the others back for the rest of your furniture.” Thorin said.

 “I admit that armchair does look better here, in your chambers.” Bilbo said, leaning forward to nuzzle Thorin’s neck.

 “I admit that you look better here, in my chambers.” Thorin pulled him into a sating kiss, once more.

_Finis._


	2. The Hazards of Speaking Dirty

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bilbo loves dirty talk and asks Thorin to try it. Thorin turns out to be really bad at it, so turns to a secretly infatuated Dwalin for advice. Dwalin is more than happy to supply it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Fulfilment of kinkmeme prompt: http://hobbit-kink.livejournal.com/4373.html?page=10
> 
> Again, just too amusing for me to pass up.

For weeks, the talk about the town of Erebor wasn’t concerned with the rebuilding of the city, or the dwarves slowly filtering their way through to their new homeland from abroad, but about the one their leader had taken as consort. Many of the dwarves had not seen a hobbit before. As a result, Bilbo was a figure of great fascination, particularly when he was visible, walking through the town.

The hobbit often complained to the dwarves who knew him best, about the rude whispers and stares, whenever he left the castle. Balin advised him to simply ignore it. Fili and Kili demanded to know which dwarves, in particular, were causing him trouble. They were more than happy to go sort them out, for Bilbo’s sake.

 To Dwalin, none of this was of any concern. The dwarves could gossip till their faces turned blue. He had never seen Thorin so obviously joyful. That was all that mattered to him.

 He looked across the dining table, that creaked with the weight of the sumptuous dishes (most on china from Bilbo’s dwelling in Bag End), to the king, who sat a little back in his chair, surveying the ones around him, with a content expression. He caught Dwalin’s eye and nodded. Dwalin nodded back. Thorin’s eyes then rested on the hobbit beside him. Bilbo had a leg of fowl in his hand and was deep in conversation with Bofur. Thorin caught Dwalin’s eye again, an almost imperceptible frown now creasing his brow.

 He patted Bilbo on the shoulder and whispered something in his ear, then turned his attention back to Dwalin. His second in command instantly understood that he needed to follow.

 They silently walked out of the arched entrance and down the corresponding gold lilted corridor. The two then turned left and wandered down a second, slightly wider passage, at the end of which stood the heavy oak door of Thorin’s bedroom. Once both were inside, Thorin started to pace, in clear agitation.

 “As my most loyal, trusted friend, I wish to ask for your… advice.”

 Dwalin affected a blank face, hiding his surprise. In the past, when it came to strategy, Thorin would often ask his advice. However, they were currently in a time of peace. He was at a loss as to what Thorin would now want from him.

 Thorin cleared his throat. “It is in regards to Bilbo.”

  _Oh so it is not so wonderful, between you two, after all?_

 Dwalin felt a surge of malicious joy at the thought, and instantly cursed himself for it.

 Many years before, Dwalin had made peace with the knowledge that Thorin would never take him as consort. To stand beside him and be looked upon with brotherly affection, was more than enough to sate his affections.

 Thorin glanced behind Dwalin, verifying the locked door. He cleared his throat, once more.

 “When I take him as consort, he likes to… talk….”

  “Talk?”

 “Oh don’t be daft. You know what I’m talking about!” Thorin snapped.

 Dwalin frowned. “What does he say?”

 Thorin glared at him, clearly unhappy that Dwalin was forcing him to reveal more. “He says rather crude things… Some of it is rather inventive.”

 Dwalin was starting to find it difficult to hide his confusion as to why Thorin was telling him this.

 “Do you wish him to stop?”

_Are you telling me you don’t know how to chastise your own consort?_

 “No! That is not the concern.” Dwalin could not recall the last time Thorin’s flesh held such a pink hue. “My concern is that he clearly wants me to… reciprocate.”

 “Ah…” _Now, I understand._

 “So, I… tried to… say a few things.”

 Dwalin waited for him to continue. The silence grew between them.

 “Such as?” He prompted.

 Thorin glared at him, once more.

 “I told him he was a bad, well endowed hobbit and that he would allow me to spank his bottom or I would beat him into consent.” He said, grumpily.

 Dwalin felt mirth overtake him. He concentrated for a few seconds on not openly showing his amusement, biting the inside of his cheek to stop his lips from upturning in a smile.

 “Bilbo was not impressed,” Thorin continued, “He said he was not a fan of spanking… or beating, for that matter. I was not seriously intending to do either and told him so! He refused to even get into my bed last night, opting to take his pillow and a blanket to the floor.”

 “I see.”

 “So, earlier tonight I tried again. He’s usually rather good at analogues. I thought I’d try one, myself. At dinner, I whispered him that he was filthy, disgusting hobbit and that tonight he was the bread and I would be the meat. He was the roasting boar and I would be the apple in his mouth.”

 It took more of a concerted effort to not burst out laughing. Dwalin could not control the smirk that overtook his placid expression.

 “So this is just a joke, to you, Dwalin?” Thorin raged.

 “Certainly not, Thorin-“

 “Because it was a joke to Bilbo! He started laughing! I will not be made a fool of!”

 “It occurs to me, Thorin, that you are a very noble dwarf of royal blood. It is understandable that common vulgarity would be difficult for you.”

 This appeared to please Thorin. The anger twisting his handsome face eased.

 “So, you wish for my advice?”

 Thorin nodded.

 “Very well then.”

 Though Thorin’s strength was at least twice that of an average dwarf, he did not compare to his more muscular friend. Dwalin demonstrated this, when he grabbed Thorn under the armpits, easily lifted him and slammed him into the wall beside the fireplace He then grabbed Thorin’s hands and held them to the wall by the wrists, leaning in to press his body against his friend’s. Leather and the salt of sweat filled Dwalin’s nostrils, as well as something else, an astringency that was clearly specific to Thorin, himself.

 “Pin him against the wall and kiss him with such passion he is desperate for breath afterwards.” Dwalin’s face was but a hairbreadth from Thorin’s own. It occurred to him that he could simply lean in, claim the mouth before him.

 No. It would be wrong. Thorin would not stand for it.

  _He doesn’t know of my affections. He must never know._

 Dwalin moved back a bit, giving Thorin more space. He could feel his lust start to narrow into one area, which responded in a way that Thorin would definitely have felt, merely moments before.

 “I’m going to take you now. I’m going to strip you naked and lay claim to your willing body. You’re going to wrap your legs around my waist and bounce on top of me as I thrust into your sweet tight ass over and over, until you're screaming out for more. Then, I’m going to pump my release deep inside you, as my hand strokes you with such keenness that you splatter all over your own stomach. Then I’m going to lick you clean of both of our releases. You’re going to be such a good little whore for me.”

 “Hm… well I suppose I’ll try it.”

 Dwalin was so intent on his fantasy, that he momentarily forgot that they were talking about what _Thorin_ was going to say to _Bilbo_.

 “Although I’ll leave out the whore part. Bilbo is not a whore. He is my precious, willing partner.”

 Feeling a little abashed, Dwalin released Thorin and stepped back. “Anything to be of help.”

 “You are excused now. Please go back to the dining hall and send Bilbo in.”

 Dwalin did not relish stepping back into the hall, hoping that the heavy cloak he wore hid the obvious proof of his lust. He wanted nothing more than to go to his own room and manually relieve himself of his current desire. However, he would always accede to the king.

 “As you wish.”

Fortune smiled upon him, however, upon stepping out of the door. Bilbo was already walking up the corridor towards him.

 “Thorin wishes to speak to you.”

 Bilbo nodded at him, thankfully not looking down.

 Dwalin rushed away, irritated by the fact that his room was on the other side of the castle.

 ###

 The next day, Thorin and Bilbo stepped into the dining hall for breakfast with uncharacteristic messy hair and rumpled clothes. Though neither spoke, Bilbo kept throwing awed glances at his partner.

 Thorin caught Dwalin’s eye, as he sat down, a telling smirk informing all that had occurred the night before.

 His friend smirked back, secretly hoping that Thorin would come back to him, should he need any more advice.

 


End file.
